


What's New, Robbie (It's Not Unusual)

by SandyQuinn



Category: LazyTown
Genre: M/M, Misunderstandings, backfiring inventions, everyone likes cats right, i refuse to mention a sandbox anywhere in this fic but it is there so don't even ask, robbie is going to be inadvertently adopted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-13 15:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9130939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyQuinn/pseuds/SandyQuinn
Summary: Robbie botches up his plan to humiliate Sportacus. Things get a bit hairy.(in which Robbie is an actual cat, not just a metaphorical one)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i don't even know man i guess i'm writing lazytown fanfiction now

“Robbie Rotten!” a group of bewilderingly naïve children chorused in disbelief.

Granted, it hadn’t been one of Robbie’s best schemes: thinking about it in retrospect, he was fairly sure he’d fallen asleep at some point of his planning, and dreamed about Sportacus being carried away by an enormous soap bubble. That might’ve confused him a little, since while his enormous Soap Bubble Blower (6000!) had functioned _perfectly_ , it had had very little to do with the ninja roleplay the kids had going on.

He had been somewhat gratified to find that a person could, indeed, be trapped inside a soap bubble.

If only it hadn’t been Robbie.

What had ensued had been a very adrenaline-filled four minutes, as he’d watched the ground and the brats in headbands get further and further away, and someone had been screaming (surely not him); then something had punctured the bubble, leaving Robbie to hurtle through the air, only to be caught by Sportacus in the midst of a particularly impressive (objectively speaking, Robbie had hated it) triple flip.

And then his moustache had fallen off.

Feeling very damp and smelling lemon fresh, Robbie muttered his usual excuses and exited stage left, stomping away in a chorus of giggles behind his back. He could think of nothing better right now than sliding down the pipe straight into his chair and curling up, maybe for the next twenty-four hours or until he stopped smelling like a plate, whichever came first.

“Robbie! Wait up!”

Robbie’s feet slowed down on their own accord, before he could fully register that someone had just called out to him. Something blue and blurry suddenly flew above his head and Robbie flinched back with a startled yelp, clutching his chest.

Sportacus landed before him, spreading his palms placatingly, beaming at Robbie. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you – “

“I wasn’t startled!” Robbie snapped, and then cleared his throat, gathering his bearings as Sportacus squinted at him with that obnoxiously benevolent smile. “What is it? What do you want?”

“Well – “ Sportacus rubbed the back of his head. “Nothing, really – I just wanted to check that you were okay, Robbie.”

“Why?” Robbie immediately felt cold, touching his face. “Is there something on me?”

“Well – a lot of soap, but –“

“I wasn’t upset! In fact, thanks to my machine I don’t have to wash my clothes this week –“

“I just thought,” Sportacus interrupted, his tone gently wedging into the middle of Robbie’s sentence, “that since you have a fear of heights, being in that bubble must’ve – “ He stopped, taking in Robbie’s expression.

“Who,” said Robbie, as cold as he could muster, “told you I was afraid of heights?”

Sportacus stared at him, his eyes glazing over for a moment as if he was reviewing some kind of a montage in his head – and then he smiled awkwardly, crookedly. “No one,” he said. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed- “

Robbie had had quite enough of this – they had a _routine_. He would fail to execute his latest scheme to evict Sportacus from the town, the brats would gasp, Robbie would leave to cram his mouth full of fudge. He wasn’t sure what Sportacus usually did during those times but assumed it was something disgustingly athletic. As it was at the moment, however, there was far too much dishwashing soap and far too little sugar in Robbie when he should’ve already been safely underground. Did Sportacus want to _gloat_?

“I’m absolutely fine with heights,” he said, perhaps a tad too loudly. “In fact, there’s nothing I love more than being really high up where I can fall for a long time and hit the ground with extra impact! So you can take your, your  _false information_ and cram it –“

“Robbie!” Sportacus said, a bit sharper than usual – a bit sharper than he ever spoke to Robbie. “I just wanted to- to- “ he paused, exhaling loudly, and Robbie, as per usual, felt like an idiot, like a hopeless case that Sportacus had to sigh and roll his eyes about, and immediately went for the defense.

“Well – Well, I _don’t_ ,” Robbie said, before Sportacus could finish whatever perfectly friendly thing he was trying to say, and if there was a tremor in his voice, he was masking it well. He just wanted to go home. “I don’t want anything to do with you, _Sportadork,_ I don't want your concern or your worry or your flip-flopping or your - your face! So just - leave me alone!”

He let his eyes glaze over Sportacus’ face so he wouldn’t have to see what kind of an expression he wore, and stomped away.

 _Of course_ Sportacus would run after him, acting like Robbie was one of his little followers, acting as if Robbie was a _mere child_ throwing a tantrum and in need of comfort, because that’s what he did for _everyone_. Sometimes Robbie did feel like kid, a big and ugly ill-fitting thing, and sometimes Sportacus made him feel that way: and he found himself wishing so fervently, suddenly, that Sportacus would follow him – that he’d come after Robbie regardless of his nastiness and prove Robbie wrong, that there’d be more to Sportacus’ caring than the fact that Robbie was just too pathetic to be left alone. That Sportacus would catch up to him and Robbie would tell him- would tell him-

He hated himself when he turned to look back.

Sportacus wasn’t following him – in fact, he was hanging from a branch on a tree, in the middle of coaxing a kitten onto his shoulder, Robbie all but forgotten. It seemed he’d moved on to the next helpless critter.

And suddenly Robbie knew what he wanted, with an invisible fist squeezing his heart, tangy taste of soap on his tongue – because he knew Sportacus wasn’t the one going home with a growing empty hole inside his head, because Sportacus never thought Robbie was laughing at him, because Sportacus never felt like a failure standing before Robbie. Robbie was going to change Sportacus – he was going to make him feel like Robbie felt every time their lives entangled together.

Robbie Rotten was going to turn Sportacus into a cute, defenseless animal.

*

The park was, for once, empty, although Robbie could hear the kids screaming and giggling and yammering somewhere in the far distance, like a promise of headaches to come. He yawned so hard that his jaw crackled, and tossed the rope over the branch, starting to haul up his latest invention. He felt like humming.

It’d perhaps been unwise to throw sleep away for a second night in a row – it had _definitely_ been unwise to handle a hammer – but Robbie was a man on a mission, and also actually, for once, genuinely pleased with what he’d come up with. If only he’d thought of this before! All he had to do was attach his machine onto the branch – he’d installed it with a motion sensor, which meant that as soon as he turned it on, the first person to pass underneath the branch would trigger it – lure Sportacus over, and watch that smug smile disappear. That smug, obnoxious smile. Smug, obnoxious, kind, handsome – Robbie blinked hastily where he’d started dozing in the middle of his mission, and clumsily tied the rope into a knot.

He looked around, taking a deep, shaky breath as he prepared himself mentally, and then raised up on his tippy toes, jumped a couple of times, and finally managed to turn his contraption on. It hummed alive ominously. He sort of felt like his chest was going to explode.

“Hello!”

Robbie swallowed a moderate-sized scream as he wheeled around, peering down and then even further down – to the round and happy face of the boy with the candy. Zaggy?

“What –“ Robbie started, wheezing a little. “ _What_? Go away!”

“What’cha doing, Robbie? Huh? Huh? You’re doing stuff!” Zoggy chirped his observations, shifting from foot to foot in what was clearly the peak of a sugar rush – Robbie could empathize but he had to get the little brat away from his machine, and quick, before –

“Hey Robbie!”

“No!” Robbie snapped sternly. The little pink girl faltered, and then, infuriatingly, shrugged it off.

“What’re you doing out here by yourself? Do you wanna play tag with us?” she asked easily. She was doing jumping jacks for no fathomable reason. Children were terrifying.  

“Yeah!” Zeggy squeaked. “Tag!”

“No tag,” Robbie corrected him, hastily side-stepping the small sticky child and nearly bumping into a third one – now there was a third one.

“Sounds like _someone_ wants to be the first It,” the impossibly loud girl said knowingly.

“ _You’re_ an it,” Robbie said heatedly. “Listen, just go away, I don’t –“

“Fine!” the loud girl said. She reached out, smacking Robbie square on the chest. “Tag! You’re it!”

“I _just said_ –“ Robbie started, his head spinning as the kids suddenly exploded into laughter and running feet, his machine still just a few feet away. Desperate, Robbie launched himself forward, flailing wildly like he was hoping to somehow herd the children, but the more he chased after them, the more the little brats seemed to be going in every direction at once. As if this was a _game_.

“Catch me if you can, Robbie!” Pinky squeaked, vaulting over a wall.

“I really don’t want to!”

“Over here! Catch me, Robbie!” loud girl bellowed at the top of her lungs.

“This game makes me very uncomfortable!”

“Robbie! Robbie!” the small sticky boy yelled. He’d somehow slipped past Robbie and was now standing almost directly below the machine, his small face beaming proudly. He felt his heartbeat in his ears, lunging forward blindly, and the only thing he could think of was to _get that boy away_ –

Ziggy danced to the side as he came, nearly vibrating with glee as he took off running – and Robbie stumbled, grabbing empty air, unable to stop his momentum as he speed-walked into a tree.

He could still hear distant laughter, but louder than that, he heard a very distinct _click_ , followed by loud, nauseating electric buzzing, the fine hair in the back of his neck standing up. He felt like someone had just briefly microwaved his brain. Robbie stumbled, stomach lurching, and fell into the bushes. Several things happened at once.

The knot holding the machine up finally gave up, and it came down, clattering onto the ground and then rolling away merrily as if on its way to new adventures.

And Robbie’s cheek slammed against the cool dirt as his insides seized violently, as he curled in on himself, and somehow _kept curling_ –

–  and suddenly he couldn’t hear the kids anymore, his pulse hammering in his ears –

–  and Robbie was panting and whining, or maybe growling –

–  and everything _itched_ and _burned_ –

–   _what_ –

–  what had he been thinking?

Robbie opened his eyes, unsteadily.

He closed his eyes, and tried to open them again.

His perspective had changed wildly. He was sitting on his clothes, a pile which suddenly seemed a lot bigger than before, able to see the underside of the bush quite clearly. He felt – distinctly different.

Looking down at himself, all he could see were soft, touchable paws, and an abundance of dark fur. Something that felt quite a lot like a tail flicked against his legs.

“Oh _no_ ,” Robbie said.

The only thing out of his mouth was a soft and somewhat distressed meow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm essentially robbie rotten (social anxiety and depression, waddup) so posting writing is always terrifying. SO THANK YOU. for the feedback. i mean, uh, whatever. 
> 
> in this chapter robbie acts precisely like himself and only incidentally like a cat

Robbie was a cat.

He was a cat – he couldn’t quite – he was a _cat_.

New sounds and new smells surrounded him in a confusing cacophony that seemed to explode behind his eyes, and he shifted, automatically, onto all fours, struggling his back legs out of his waistcoat, staggering forward. He was a – what was he going to _do_?

A sound like a herd of buffalos approaching startled Robbie out of his horrified reverie – without thinking, he darted out of the bushes. He had to find help! He had to find someone who could change him back! Robbie Rotten wasn’t about to spend the rest of his days chasing his own tail and eating lettuce, or whatever it was that cats did!

Suddenly he found himself in a sea of legs and realized he’d just made a terrible mistake.  The _children_.

There was a pause as Robbie looked up at four downturned faces, and they stared at each other, frozen to the spot in a sudden Mexican stand-off.

“Kitty!” someone exclaimed in delight.

Enormous hands suddenly reached out from the sky, and Robbie shrieked and backed away hastily, darting away, the children calling out to him. He’d had _nightmares_ like this. He couldn’t think – somehow the kids seemed to be everywhere he tried to run to, panic building in his chest until he felt like he was going to explode. Hands grabbed around his midsection and Robbie squirmed wildly, his hind leg kicking something soft before he broke free.

He ran headfirst into a pair of blue, sturdy legs.

Large, warm hands came around him suddenly, and he was lifted up with a dizzying speed – Robbie screamed – until he suddenly found himself staring at Sportacus’ concerned face.

The crystal on Sportacus’ chest stopped beeping.

“No!” Robbie snapped. “Keep going, you stupid rock! I’m in trouble! A lot of trouble! I’m not safe just because Sportaflop is here! I refuse!”  

The only thing out of his mouth was more enthusiastic and slightly high-pitched meowing. He sounded _adorable_.

 “You’re a talkative little kitty, aren’t you?” Sportacus said, enunciating carefully. Robbie realized he was being held at arm’s length, awkwardly, like Sportacus had never held a small animal in his life, and he wriggled his legs in the air furiously.   

“Listen to me! I need you to learn everything you can about genetic manipulation!”

Pinky suddenly shifted into his field of vision, bouncing up and down just a little bit, her pink hair flopping. “It’s so cute! Look at its little socks!”

“He’s not wearing anything, Stephanie,” Sportacus said, looking a bit nonplussed.

“It’s those white spots on the legs, Sportacus- “

“How do you know it’s a he?” the loud girl piped up. Sportacus stared into the middle distance for a second.

“Sportscandy,” he said decisively.

“Will you all stop babbling nonsense?” Robbie demanded. “I was just here! Robbie Rotten! Dashingly handsome villain! Where did he go?”

“He doesn’t have a collar,” Stephanie observed, and then cleared her throat, like she was giving a lecture. Apparently no one could hear Robbie screaming about object permanence. “It might mean he’s a stray. A lot of people take cats for the summer and then abandon them when autumn comes, because they don’t feel like taking care of them after all.” She paused, her gaze softening. “Poor thing’s so thin too.”

“Black’s slimming,” Robbie muttered.

“Gee, Pinky, just give us the pamphlet,” loud girl said, rolling her eyes.

“That’s awful!” the permanently sticky child squeaked.

“Yes it is.” Stephanie looked at Sportacus, and smiled brilliantly. “I think someone should take him in.”

There was a strange shift in the atmosphere. The kids paused, staring at Sportacus, who, for some reason Robbie couldn’t fathom, squirmed a bit.

“Well, maybe one of you kids can give him a home,” he said quickly. “Stephanie?”

“My uncle’s allergic,” Stephanie replied immediately. She jostled Trixie with her elbow.  

“I still technically have a guinea pig,” loud girl said. “Uh. Somewhere. I hope.”

Sportacus turned, still holding Robbie like a pair of oranges, looking down at the sticky boy, and opened his mouth – and then seemed to think better of it. In that moment Robbie hated him a little less than usual. “What about Stingy? Or Pixel?”

“Stingy’s parents will never let him have a cat,” Stephanie said matter-of-factly as if she had the answer locked and loaded. “And Pixel will never remember to feed him. I doubt Miss Busybody likes cat hair on her clothes,” she added, when Sportacus opened his mouth.  

Robbie was, bizarrely enough, starting to feel a little jilted.

“Well, I suppose- “ Sportacus started, his mouth curling helplessly as he stalled, eyeing the kids who were all looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat, squaring his shoulders. “I’ll take him,” he said, unnecessarily grand in Robbie’s mind, smiling again. “For the time being, at least. I don’t think the airship is a very good place for a small kitty.” The kids hooted before he could even finish his sentence.  

“As if I’d want to live with you anyway!” Robbie snapped. “I bet you have to pedal your stupid blimp to keep it powered. Like a _caveman_.” He squirmed – he was starting to get uncomfortable too, hanging limp from Sportacus’ enormous hands. His life was miserable – one failure after another, every stupid scheme backfiring and blowing up on his face, and now he was being manhandled by a stupid sports fairy who was probably going to use him for football practice. _And_ he was going to have to live with him too. Maybe forever, if Robbie’s invention worked like it should’ve.

“You can’t hold him like that, Sportacus,” Pinky said, abruptly, as if reading Robbie’s thoughts, grasping the man’s wrist to move his hand. “He’s probably so uncomfortable. You have to support his legs, like this –“

“Like this?” Sportacus asked, uncertainly. “Good kitty.”

Suddenly Robbie found his feet – his paws – pressed against warm, calloused skin, his body cradled against Sportacus’ chest, warm breath brushing the top of his head. A mild scent of sweat and apples surrounded him, a steady low beat of Sportacus’ heart humming in his ears; and Robbie was whisked right back to that familiar nervous flutter beginning in the pit of his stomach, right back to the strange pliant weakness that overcame him whenever Sportacus put his hands on him, whenever Robbie was reminded just how unimaginably _strong_ the other man was, and he thought, well – _this_ wasn’t so bad.

“Oh,” Stephanie said, sounding delighted. “He’s purring.”

*

“This is horrible!” Robbie screeched, his eyes squeezed shut. “This is monstrous! Catnapping! For shame, Sportaflop!”

“Just a little bit more, little kitty,” Sportacus murmured under his breath. He sounded a little strained – it probably had nothing to do with the ladder he was climbing, and a whole lot to do with Robbie’s claws.

“I changed my mind!” Robbie howled. “Just give me to Zappy! I’ll be good! I’ll be the best cat he’s ever owned!”

He hadn’t realized at first – it was a lot harder to keep up with what was happening when you were tiny and cradled in the most muscular fingers in the whole world – and it’d only dawned on Robbie when Sportacus had unceremoniously shoved him inside his vest and called out to for his airship ladder.

Wind howled in his ears – Robbie hadn’t opened his eyes, but he could imagine how high they were at this point. Who carried cat up to a blimp, anyway? Suddenly the only thing Robbie could imagine was the tiny and unceremonious splat he’d make if he right now, and he moaned loudly, holding on tighter. He could feel Sportacus flinch but he didn’t care.

And suddenly they were inside the ship.

“There,” Sportacus said – prying Robbie’s paws off his neck gingerly, and setting him down on the shiny white floor. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Robbie shook himself, glanced up at Sportacus and felt a bit embarrassed by the clawmarks. “I wasn’t actually scared,” he said hastily, his tail flicking unconsciously. “You just startled me. I was just holding on to be safe.” He paused. “Don’t know my own strength, obviously.”

“If you say so,” Sportacus said, looking a bit amused.

“Wait-“ Robbie nearly jumped. “You can understand me?”

But Sportacus looked away, absently rubbing the bleeding lines on his throat, like he was thinking about something else. A fluke, then. Robbie swallowed his disappointment, and turned his attention to his surroundings.

He’d been in the ship before, of course, not that he had decent memories of _that_ horror-filled experience. Robbie still maintained that control buttons on the floor was one of the stupidest engineering decisions he’d ever seen in his life. Sometimes he was genuinely tempted to break in and make some radical adjustments to the ship, if only to see the look on Sportacus’ face when he’d have to fly the stupid thing like a normal person.

Of course, right now and in the foreseeable future, Robbie lacked the opposable thumbs to even hold a hammer. He tried not to think about that too hard, padding across the clean, shiny surface and avoiding the buttons.

“Absolutely sterile,” Robbie sniffed. “Boring.” The ship smelled like fruits and something he couldn’t pinpoint. It was either cleaning supplies or a grotesquely overgrown zest for life.

He suddenly realized he was being stared at.

Sportacus was watching him, standing unnaturally still – which meant that he was fidgeting from foot to foot, jogging in place just a tiny bit. He looked _worried_.

“Take a picture, why don’t you?” Robbie said. “Put it on the Internet, they love that sort of thing.”

Sportacus cleared his throat suddenly, as if he realized he’d been caught, gesturing vaguely.

“Well, this is my – ship. You’re welcome to roam around, but – it’s probably not that interesting to you. Uh. Should I give you a tour?”

“You do realize you’re talking to a cat? Should I get Pinkie to explain the difference?”

“I’m not – very good with animals,” Sportacus said quickly. “Not that I hate you or anything, I don’t hate anyone, I just… “ he trailed off, as they stared at each other, man and a cat.

“This is very uncomfortable,” Robbie said eventually. Sportacus seemed to make the same decision – apparently shamed by his own attempts at interspecies communicating, he stalked a few feet away with an awkward sidelong glance at Robbie, before dropping down to do push-ups in energetic silence.

Robbie couldn’t do this. It was bad enough being a cat, he didn’t think he could handle Sportacus getting weird on him as well. Something had to be done.

Determined, Robbie set his sights on the sports equipment wall, conveniently open. Sportacus might not be connecting his dangerous arch-enemy with a literal cat, but if Robbie could just cause the appropriate amount of mayhem, and maybe destroy a few things, it all might click into place. After all, who else hated sports as much as Robbie?

He’d written a newspaper column once about it once. Mayor Meanswell had dictatorially crossed out all the swearwords before it’d gone to print.

Robbie eyed the neurotically organized wall warily. He didn’t recognize half the things there, although he was sure all of them were used to somehow to hit, throw, jump or to bodily injure other people. It figured Sportacus kept everything he owned in pristine condition – the man just lived to shame Robbie and his “I’ll just put it down somewhere and figure it out later” ways.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Robbie muttered. It was less graceful than he usually aimed for, but he was out of options.

Robbie took a couple of steps back, before taking a running leap into the wall.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t accounted for his newfound body’s strength, which meant that he barrelled in like a small, furry missile, colliding with a relatively soft baseball mitt, scrambled wildly, sticks clattering onto the ground loudly, balls rolling away. Robbie yelped, clambering about wildly as more things came crashing down, and was nearly brained by a baseball bat before a volleyball net unfolded and fell on him, knocking him onto the floor.

“Aah, a net!” Robbie flailed. “My only weakness!”

Suddenly, the weight of the net was lifted off him, and Robbie was scooped up as effortlessly as ever: he found himself blinking at Sportacus’ bemused face, before the other man’s mouth went all scrunched up and funny – and he burst into laughter.

Robbie spared a brief moment to the fact that Sportacus got tiny creases to the corners of his eyes when he laughed this hard, and then went back to sulking.

“Oh, laugh it up, sportsboy,” he said. “Some hero you are. Ten feet away and you can’t save one cat on time.”

“I’m sorry, was I ignoring you?” Sportacus said warmly, cradling Robbie in the crook of his arm. “That was some jump you made just now. Very impressive!” He paused. “You know, you kind of remind me of someone.”

“Yes,” Robbie said urgently. “Yes! Keep going!”

“Someone who –“ Sportacus paused, and to Robbie’s puzzlement, bowed his head to check on his crystal, as if it could somehow go off without him noticing. He exhaled, lifting his gaze, and his smile returned – but the creases around his eyes were gone. “How about that tour, huh?”

“What?” Robbie asked, incredulously. “That’s it? You’re not even going to follow that thought through?” He paused – the words slipping out of him, uncertainly. “Am I – Am I that – unimportant to you?”

Robbie received no answer. Sportacus ignored him – Sportacus couldn’t understand him, stepping over the scattered equipment with Robbie in his arms, walking him over to the cockpit, talking about wind resistance and birds.

With a sigh, Robbie settled to be initiated to the inner workings of the airship.

*

At 8:08, precise like a clockwork, the lights in the ship dimmed.

Robbie eyed the bed suspiciously, watching from the floor as Sportacus toed off his shoes and shuffled in. The man rolled onto his side, looking at Robbie in the darkness.

“Come on,” he said uncertainly, extending his bare arm.

“I think you probably wouldn’t be pretty happy sharing a bed with your enemy,” Robbie said bitterly.

Sportacus clicked his tongue in the darkness. “Come on,” he said again.

“I don’t even know why I care about your feelings,” Robbie said. He took a step back, and then turned to walk away. Maybe he could nap on the pilot's seat. 

Sportacus lowered his arm slowly, tucking it back under the sheets – Robbie could feel him watch him in the darkness, as the minutes ticked by slowly.

The ship felt immense when he was this small – towering over him, alien and cold. He felt a sudden, strong ache in his chest – he missed the warm, worn safety of his orange chair, no matter that it smelled permanently like coffee and icing and tears. Robbie felt, suddenly, exhausted.

“Please,” a voice said behind him, softly.

Robbie’s resolve broke.

He leapt on the soft, soft white bed, feeling his paws sinking in – gingerly making his way over to Sportacus, who smiled at him uncertainly. Slowly, slowly, Robbie let himself sink against the mattress. Sportacus’ hand reached out, and smoothed warm and heavy across his back.

“You’re making a big mistake,” Robbie mumbled.

“Good night, kitty,” Sportacus said quietly.

Robbie started purring.


End file.
